Official Pandemonium
by borntoflyhigh
Summary: (AU) It started out innocently enough, pitying every wailing secretary that exited the CEO's office after making yet another mistake. Keeping an eye on him, fulfilling a bunch of promises I made to his family, making sure he never knew my game. Keeping secrets from Oliver Davis should have ended innocently enough too,no-strings attached but that was just not how it was meant to be.
1. Prologue

' **Official Pandemonium'**

 _ **Prologue**_

 **Disclaimer** : I do NOT _own_ GH.

* * *

A step to the left.

"… arranged that meeting tomorrow at eight…"

The voice that comes out of my throat sounds strangely disembodied, a strained whisper as if I'm restraining myself from doing something desperately close to my want. It is after a few seconds that I realize this is true. The truth of it strikes me with all the power of a cannonball lodging itself into my stomach.

Another jerky step. This time to the right.

I keep talking. Talking is safe. Heh, talking just might distract me from any of the insanity brewing in my mind.

"...the reservations have been made at the hotel of your choice, all the arrangements can be altered as you request…"

A spin. His fingers tighten around mine for such a fleeting moment that it just might have been my imagination.

He raises an eyebrow as if trying to understand why the hell I'm speaking during a slow dance.

 _GREAT_. Even the narcissist knows the etiquettes of slow-dancing.

I lower my eyes because right now staring into his brilliant, hard ones would rather be like walking into a trap I've so assiduously worked to avoid. Not that avoidance has done me a bit of good. The butterflies in my stomach might have just turned into gigantic bats.

This situation is slipping. Fast. I'm slipping. Fast. Hard.

 _Talk_!

"… all the documents have been copied and saved on your laptop. Hardcopies on your desk. The contracts open at page three…"

Maybe it is my overwrought imagination but I think I might have just seen his lips twitch. He looks immaculate in that black suit, lean as he towers over me, every inch the powerful CEO. I think I might be ogling.

Not very professional, Mai.

He's supposed to be a jerk, I remind myself as he spins me again, the warm contact sending everything inside me in some kind of frenzy, he's supposed to be the biggest jerk on the planet. The jerk. A whole new definition of jerk.

It's all a lie to keep me in my place.

"… Madoka has reduced the thesis to points so that sponsors don't fall asleep during - I mean… so they don't have to spend too much brain thinking it… over…"

His unnerving, unblinking stare halts all thoughts. All words. I'm a goner. Geez, all that hard work for nothing.

I move to the left again, my movements automatic, completely in tune to the music that reverberates in the room and for a desperate moment I wish that I hadn't been pulled into this mess and he would have come here with one of his perfect model dates as per tradition. God, I'm an assistant! A freaking assistant for crying out loud! Though the women who have been eyeing him covetously since the last hour probably don't realize this, they've been giving me the 'you're-so-dead' looks ever since he dragged me to the dance floor. Literally dragged. Only because I know how he hates physical contact with all these made up women whose gazes track him like hungry vultures. Perhaps they'll puncture my heart with their heels once I walk out of this room, out of this dancing business.

"...Yasu will send the presentations over tomorrow, they should arrive by seven thirty…"

Technically, he was supposed to reject the whole idea of dancing because I never thought it would suit someone as serious, as focused as him but when he relented to it (just to please the damned sponsors who threw this whole party thing…) I realized how little I knew him. Not Oliver Davis but Naru.

Slow-dancing was probably created just for him.

"… I'll check them for any errors and forward them to your inbox by eight fifteen at the latest…"

Don't stare. I plead with him internally, a puddle of conflict, a muddle of emotions, my mind working to recall all that I'm paid to tell him. Recalling business. Our real reason here. Don't stare at me!

"… I will also be there at the meeting with all the n-notes and…" I gulp, noticing the stutter, internally cursing. "... should there be something that -"

I stop abruptly when I hear an irritated huff. His. Eyes narrowed and glinting dangerously in the dim lighting.

I gulp again.

" _What_ ," He questions in a deceptively soft voice, slowly pulling me closer. "...will it take to quieten you?"

Gulping becomes a routine. My new habit.

"You see, Taniyama." He begins, head tilted to the side, moving us around the room effortlessly. Gracefully. "We are waltzing. Reminding me of my itinerary during this process is not conducive to rhythm, is it?"

"Sir -"

"Answer me."

"I…"

Then before I know what is happening I'm the one staring. And then it's me who's moving closer to him, held by his gaze. The only thing holding me back from encircling my arms around his neck is the promise I've made to Martin. Even that doesn't make any sense now.

"I see." He murmurs, nodding at a couple that dances right past us before his mouth tilts into a smirk. "But then again, grace and coordination have never been your strong points."

And that is when I know he's unleashed something uncontrollable in me with that soft, challenging murmur.

I put those arms to good use. Link them behind his neck. Tip my chin up. He can fire me for overstepping boundaries but this one dance is mine. I've had enough of being reduced to a confused pile of mush, enough of being conflicted by his contradictory actions. Done. This is time for action.

I blush but the lack of light conveniently hides it. No vulnerability. Ever.

"What do you have to say now?" I smile up at him, reveling in the proximity, rejoicing his surprised misstep. "Sir…"

He watches me, eyes widening fractionally.

Flustered. Just a little bit.

His impeccable rhythm falters for a second before that mask of nonchalance replaces my favourite expression.

That's when the irony of my situation hits me. Martin's request. My promise. The whole reason I'm here.

And when I look up, he almost smiles down at me and it is a punch to the gut.

I step back to his surprise. Turn around. Flee. Never once looking back at him. Like the coward I am.

I hate him. Hate that I can't hate him for long. Hate that he is well aware of this. Hate him for not being the jerk that I thought him to be. Hate that I will be betraying this man.

Hate that eventually he is going to hate me…

* * *

A/N: So this is a new style I'm trying and I hope it works out as well as I think it should. Hope you enjoyed this prologue. More to come in the chapters. Updates will be plenty; I suppose since I have most of this planned out! Review and put in all your suggestions. Hoping to hear more from y'all.

Cookies!

- **borntoflyhigh** -


	2. Part I

' **Official Pandemonium** '

 **Part I**

 **Disclaimer** : I do NOT own GH.

* * *

 _ **Three weeks ago**_ …

* * *

I climb one stair. Count to sixty in my mind. Take one more step up. Give an alerting cough. Sigh.

I accept defeat. I shall never doubt the wisdom of my superiors. The first step really _is_ the hardest.

For him all the steps must be really hard to take.

Ha. Ha. Ha. I _just_ may die of laughter.

Though, I have to admit, each step he takes up the winding staircase is graceful and confident. As if he owns the place. At the present moment, I'm not supposed to care.

 _Move!Move!_

Let me explain this unusual crankiness; I woke up late.

I'm not at my finest today. Please don't mind me.

For this I blame Masako… as I usually do for everything these days and she deserves it, uprooting my life across continents. Anyways it's easier to blame her and not expect a fight in return, all she's going to do in retaliation to my accusations is raise that sleeve to her mouth and murmur something about me being a tardy idiot. That is it. I can shout and vent my anger all I like and she can deflate it with one of her raised eyebrows. Sometimes I think she should have been a superwoman instead of a superstar/medium but I digress. I am late. This is Masako's fault.

End of story.

 _MOVE!_

Being a psychic does not help me in this situation; sometimes I wonder how it really helps me except of those unwelcome nightmares which can't really be counted as a help. I wish the man in front of me would move out of the way so I can continue my mad sprint up the stairs - I have a meeting with Martin Davis, the retiring CEO of BSPR in about five minutes and I know he cannot afford a lazy employee, especially an ordinary intern like me. When Madoka told me of this appointment, I was really surprised. I mean Mr. Davis is like the CEO and it's kind of a miracle that he recalls my name from amongst the sea of nameless, faceless interns that work at the headquarters.

It's my first time personally meeting the CEO and I'm late. I don't want to be! Unlike other employed people, we interns actually like our boss, never mind that he's retiring in three days, to be succeeded by his son.

Let me update you on the progress of the man in front of me; he could give snails a run for their money.

The staircase is narrow and the person in front of me makes it seem even smaller; I mean he's really tall and impeccably dressed, all expensive suit and everything; while I would be concerned about my appearance if in the company of people like him, today I'm plain irritated. My hair probably resembles a bird's nest and my overall look could probably be confused with a bedraggled teenager on a bad hair day but I won't think such depressing thoughts. I cough repeatedly to alert the person of my presence behind him but I get no response, he seems to be concentrating on his phone, typing something with a rapid skill that should have impressed me in normal circumstances.

Needless to say these are not normal circumstances. I should have taken the elevator.

I'm thinking of all possible ways to make him trip over his feet but then, miraculously he moves out of the way!

I can hardly believe my luck! I stop thinking entirely and concentrate on how to get up the stairs in less than a minute, perhaps if I skip three stairs at a time, I would make it to Mr. Davis' office in less than three minutes. Gee, I hope so.

To show the tall, wealthy stranger what _speed_ means, I start the marathon, racing past him, my arm brushing against his in what could be easily classified as a bump. I turn around to call out an apology, my feet automatically skipping steps as if realizing that time was a treasure but then I take a look at who I've been cursing since the last ten minutes.

My feet entangle.

Sharp, obsidian blue eyes meet mine, assessing shrewdly what has sent me into such a flurry.

Tall, wealthy stranger needs a revision - in description.

 _Handsome_ , tall, wealthy stranger stares at me, an eyebrow arched before his lips part as if to say something.

Belatedly I realize what.

 **Thud**...

I trip. Over my shoelaces. Papers scatter everywhere. Cell phone skids to some place I am not aware of. I look like an idiot. Really don't mind.

Okay so this is a cliché but hang it, it doesn't matter at this point! I'm going to get helped by a really handsome man even if he looks like the serious, non-talkative types. Wow. This day won't be so bad, maybe.

I should have known better.

He walks towards me in the same slow, striding pace before coming to stand above my tumbled person on the stairs. Not very graceful, I admit but hey! This is like a once in a lifetime opportunity! I look up at him, clearly expecting help since he is partly to blame for my fall. He should have moved out of the way before I had the opportunity to nearly knock him down.

"Um…" I move to stand up, dusting my skirt before looking up in his face. I sheepishly gaze at the papers. "Will you… er… - ?"

He stares down at me like I'm an alien.

Then, he looks over his shoulder at the scattered items that litter the staircase.

I smile.

He blinks. Mouth slants into a brooding frown.

Just like that, I emphasize, just like that, he strides away. Ascends the stairs, eyes back on the phone.

Away…

 _Away_!

And this time his speed increases ten-fold…

I blink. Twice. My left eye twitches.

This is all Masako's fault.

* * *

"Mai Taniyama." Martin Davis speaks up from his place at the window, reading from my file. "Age - twenty one."

I lace my fingers together, fidgeting, unable to understand what I'm supposed to do. Should I nod, confirm his words? I settle for sitting still.

"Completing courses in parapsychology. Psychic - " He pauses, flipping back a few pages as if in complete disbelief about the last part he might have just discovered. "You're a psychic?"

Before I can speak, he interrupts.

"This is unbelievable," He shakes his head, muttering to himself. "One of my interns has powers like yours and nobody thought to inform me?"

"Erm… sir?" I bite my lip. "Is that question directed at me?"

Mr. Davis blinks at me and for some reason, it reminds me of someone. Like I've seen the gesture before.

"It most certainly is, young lady." He peers at me over his spectacles before his tone takes a turn for great vehemence. "I am the CEO. I am entitled to - "

" - know this, I know." I interrupt, sighing. "But I asked Madoka not to tell anyone."

"Really?" His surprise kind of surprises me, is he not supposed to understand why we psychics prefer to stay on low ground? "Why."

"Word would have gotten around." My explanation seems to make immediate sense to me and something in his expression softens. "I know there are psychics around here, a lot of them but I didn't want the attention from the other interns. It would've been unnecessary."

He smiles. And then he chuckles mumbling something about me being perfect and how Madoka is a genius despite her hair dye choice. Truth to be told, I rather like Madoka's choice in hair colour but telling Mr. Davis that would not have really made a difference, would it?

I look at him, inquiringly and his expression turns somber.

"Right. Miss Taniyama." He takes a seat, runs a hand through his greying hair before getting to the topic. "As you know, I will be retiring in approximately three days. My son will be taking over the company and I want you to do me a favor."

It seems really strange and for the life of me; I can't make out the connection between the two.

He leans forward, entangling his fingers together. "I adopted Eugene and Oliver when they were eight. Identical twins, non-identical personalities. The most intriguing pair of children I'd ever met." He takes off his glasses, rubbing a hand over his face. "Later, I found evidence of psychic powers in them. Eugene was a medium and his powers could be controlled by sufficient training but Oliver…"

I listen, intrigued. It's odd that my boss by so many levels is sharing something as personal as this…

"Oliver had powers unlike anything I had ever seen…" A faraway look in his eyes as he searches for a word. "… they were… destructive."

I draw a breath in. Sympathy.

"We taught him to control it. Lin and Madoka." He explains and I nod in understanding. "But they occurred frequently like bouts or attacks and then we couldn't really stop it."

I tilt my head, confused.

"My son, Eugene, he died when he was sixteen." I stifle the gasp that comes out of my mouth but Mr. Davis hears it anyway. "Oliver experienced it. To the last moment."

I can't stop my startled intake of breath.

"Oliver wanted to find Eugene's body. He died in Japan, you see…" I marvel at how he manages to mince the story in such short, functional, emotionless phrases. "But my wife, she wouldn't have it. They had a row. We did not want to lose our only son, Mai."

"I understand, sir."

"He's been looking for the corpse ever since but he has no idea I know of his plans."

"Excuse me, sir." I finally find my voice. "I - I don't find where I fit in, in this story…"

He sighs. "I want you to do something for me, Mai."

I lean forward to hear.

And as the story unfolds, I understand something very vital about this Oliver person. He is sharp. I must be sharper. I must breach his defenses.

"Mr. Davis - " I begin at some point. "You do realize that letting him find that dead body might give him a measure of peace, don't you?"

He sighs… "We don't want him involved in it. Gene is dead; I don't want Oliver living with his past anymore."

"You're coddling him."

He gives a bark of mirthless laughter. "I know, it's not my hobby, I assure you."

I wring my hands together, pursing my lips as I think - this is not right, this doesn't seem fair at all but when I think about it from Mr. Davis' perspective; I realize that their fears are well founded. I may be an orphan but I do know a thing or two about parental psychology.

"I don't like this."

"I've questioned a number of recommended interns for this job." He sighs, raking a hand through his hair and I know this is taking a turn for emotional blackmailing. "None of them even comes close to it. They're either too clever or too docile."

I raise an eyebrow as if to ask what he categorizes me as. Madoka is a conniving woman. She knew I could be talked into this.

"You have no subservient bone inside you, young lady." He chuckles, shoving papers aside in exhaustion. "Nor are you too clever to trap yourself in your own intelligence."

My eyebrow retains its position.

"You will do."

I contemplate the offer again; I have no obligation to do it of course and I shouldn't be interfering in their private matters but I want to help. God, I don't like this. Not one bit but I want to help Dr. Davis. I do.

All I do is nod. I hope he understands its acceptance.

"I'll do my best, sir."

He slumps in the seat in relief. Actually slumps. "I'm indebted to you, Mai." He shakes my hand, firmly. "Perhaps you don't understand how much - "

I flush and smile feebly. "There is no need to thank me sir… I - "

But he interrupts, this time more serious than ever. "But you need to promise me something, Mai." I nod, urging him to continue. "You won't let your sentiments or his, if they should ever arise, entangle with this."

I am taken aback. It shows plainly on my face.

"I - "

"There is no need to be flustered." He levels a look at me. "I am merely asking this to make sure this ends well. No loopholes. It will be easier."

I cover up my shock by frantically shaking my head. "I - you don't need to worry… sir- "

But then I stop. My eyes notice something outside the office's window.

My jaw nearly hits the carpeted floor.

Handsome, tall, wealthy jerk walks past the office, in considerably long strides, hawk-like eyes observing his environment. He nods at Mr. Davis from behind the glass window. A cold, frigid nod and then continues walking. Not even noticing me.

"That," Mr. Davis shakes his head, smiling ruefully at me. "- is my son."

This time my jaw drops to the ground, brushes against the carpet before coming up to shut back with an audible clamp.

Oliver.

Davis.

CEO.

My head spins but I manage to look at Mr. Davis and give a decisive nod.

"I'll make sure of that, sir."

Martin Davis smiles resignedly. He is sceptical. Clearly. His trust in his son's capabilities baffles me.

What he doesn't understand is that my job has just been made a hell lot easier…

I will never have sentiments for this certified jerk. Ever.

That is one thing I am really sure about.

* * *

 **A** / **N** : So umm, here it is! Leave your suggestions and tell me what you reckon about the plot. After this the story's going to take a turn for the normal and we'll be going according to chronological order.

I know you all love cookies…

- **borntoflyhigh** -


	3. Scene II

' **OfficialPandemonium** '

 **Part** **I** **–** **Scene** **II**

 **Disclaimer** : I do NOT own GH…

* * *

 ** _One Week Later_** ...

* * *

Yasu stares. Madoka stares. I stare.

But _we_ do not stare. Technically at least. We actually sneak glances every once in a while, like a pendulum. We make sure _he_ does not know.

Lin does not participate in the staring - as always he is enamoured with his laptop.

"B-b-but s-sir," We hear a high-pitched, panicked voice from inside his office. I peg it down as Assistant No.5. Of the day. "I d-d-did what you s-said b-b-but - ?!"

I'm fairly sure he's about to fire her not because of whatever mistake the poor woman made but because of that stuttering. We all hear him say something in a low, chilling voice and strain to hear more. As always we can't make out the words. It irritates the hell out of all of us. Especially the one's who're betting upon the temporality of his ever-changing assistants.

She says something in a shrill voice, tripping over her words, again. It is followed by a stretching silence. We all hold our breaths, like a child waiting for the final slap.

Instead we hear a slam.

The door to his office blasts open and Temporary-Assistant-Number-Five almost stumbles out, eyes wide and red-rimmed, clutching a wad of tissue in her hand. She bursts into a wail as soon as she gathers her things and then storms out of the building altogether.

I wince in sympathy, almost beheading myself as I turn to stare at her retreating form, wracked by sobs.

I shudder.

Then I realize that everyone in the room is practically holding their breaths. Creating a void of nothingness. It is after a moment of tutting in sympathy to the poor assistant that I realize why.

Oh no. No. _No_.

"I never realized this was a café." The chilling voice. Every employee physically turns towards the den. His office. In absolute horror.

He leans in the doorway. Casually. His casual is lethal. Then, he straightens almost abruptly, narrowed eyes shooting invisible laser beams at us.

"Quit socializing. Get to work."

Everyone starts to make themselves scarce. I am amongst this crowd of scared interns. He shoots all of us another look full of a frostiness that would make even the Arctic seem scorching hot. Dark, blue eyes scan the interns, his gaze passes over my face as if I do not exist. For once, I do not mind.

He turns away.

Everybody finally breathes.

Then he turns back towards again.

There we go with the hitching breaths….

"If anybody feels overwhelming sympathy for Miss Miller, they are welcome to walk out of the same door as she did, minutes ago."

Is it my imagination or does his gaze linger on my face meaningfully? Either way, I bow my head and start flipping through the files I need to summarize.

Finally, thank God, finally, I hear him walk back into the den, shutting the door behind him.

We all exchanged scared glances. Terror reigns for a moment before Madoka calls for all the interns to focus on their respective jobs.

She coughs and walks past me, back to her department, discreetly slipping cash into Yasu's hands. Yasu is chief to the Research Department of BSPR and already quite a lot richer than men his age but his appetite for challenges is insatiable. He counts the cash, smirks and then walks back to his floor, intentionally whistling as he passes the CEO's office.

Davis says nothing. To say that I am surprised would be an understatement of cosmic proportions.

Yasu is smug. Throws a wink at the awed interns.

I shake my head, clearing it of everything except the task at hand.

So he hates stuttering. And shrill-voiced assistants. Noticed. Check.

In case you did not notice - I'm doing my homework on this guy. Martin Davis wants me at my best. Focused is my best.

Observance before action.

For now…

* * *

 ** _Two days later..._**

* * *

"You do not have a strategy."

Ladies and gentlemen, best friends is an overrated concept. Look at Masako, for instance, one monotonous sentence from Miss Ice Queen diminishes whatever spark glimmers inside me. Kind of not her fault, I'm just plain upset.

"Masako," I glance up at her from the concentrating task of painting my toenails. Concentrative but hardly productive. "I know that."

She snorts, snatching the nail paint from my hands. That is right… snatches. Only she can make snatching look graceful. Ugh.

"Oliver Davis is not to be underestimated."

It is my turn to snort.

"International jerk."

She sends me a reproachful look and then wrinkles her nose at the colour of my nail polish, though does not comment. "He wasn't always like this."

"Uh-huh…" I ask sarcastically and then something strikes me like lightning. I nearly unhinge my head when I look up. "Wait. _Always_ like this? How long have you known him, huh?"

She swats the question away as if it is meaningless. I glare.

And glare some more. Using a trick or two I have learnt from Davis

Masako huffs in defeat. This is a rare occurrence. "Since I was ten."

My eyes bulge out my skull and I scramble into an active position than my lazy reprieve on the couch.

"WHAT?"

"Do not shout." She orders in a calm voice. "It is distasteful."

Well now, look at this! My best friend has known my soon-to-be-boss/currently-boss'-boss and I know none of this?! Like, what the heck! I know Masako is affiliated with BSPR and that she helps out with the difficult cases but I was not aware of this back-story.

"I'll shout alright!" I am screaming outright. In frustration. "You never told me this!"

She silently examines her nails as I rant.

"He changes assistants like a model changes clothes!" I throw my arm up in a silent scream. "And you guys are not giving me any pointers at all! What am I supposed to do?!"

She tries to deflate me with her eyebrows. I will have none of that. "We're trying not to make him suspicious."

"Yeah right."

We are silent for a while as I try to come up with a better plan; I need to remain inconspicuous, I need to appear as unsuspicious as humanly possible. I have to make my eventual appointment seem completely natural.

Apparently, what happens after that is still undecided. Great.

It is then that she drops the final bomb. "Yasu's known him since he was nine."

I tumble off the sofa in complete shock. Surprise. Indignation.

The motion seems to remind me of my life.

I cover my face with my hands, take my frustration out into them, my career seems to have shrunken to acting ninja at the office and I'm failing spectacularly at it. Twice, I have bumped into Mr. Hotshot Boss; once in the parking lot, once when I was in the dusty basement, finding old files from amongst the piles of folders lined up in neat stacks. Twice, he has looked at me as if I am something he is allergic to.

Not very pleasant.

Masako knows she can speak again without setting me off. "But he wasn't always like this, Mai."

I peek at her from between my fingers, then lower my hands from my face when I notice her serious expression.

"His powers. Gene's death - " She clears her throat as if fighting against a swell of emotion. "He is a shell of the man he used to be."

Oh my…

"Oh…"

The silence in my apartment is deafening.

* * *

 ** _The next day_** …

* * *

I cough violently as another layer of dust encloses me.

Okay, so by now I should be covered in the dust that comes off the files stacked high in the basement's file room; I don't know why Madoka chooses me to get the stack of files; can she not understand that this is masculine work?

Though I shouldn't be complaining; not after announcing to my colleagues at the last Christmas party that I despise gender discrimination. Though I can always blame the wine…

Gathering the files, I stand lightly dusting my jeans, eyes scanning the time periods, some actually date back to the twentieth century, mesmerized I flip them open and read the paranormal phenomena. Some of it is downright strange. From poltergeists to demons and exorcised ghosts, gruesome murders, satanic practices…

 _ **Thud** **!**_

My brain and feet loose all coordination whatsoever. I fall back. Hard. My bottom slams against the ground and I wince in the sudden, acute pain.

There wasn't supposed to be a wall here!

Quite suddenly the aforementioned wall grasps both my arms and pulls me up to my cursed feet. Effortlessly.

 _Huh - ?_

I have walked straight into a wall… which has a… heartbeat?

My gaze meets a shocking blue colour and I propel myself backwards. Jerking my arms from his grasp. Surprising him with my reaction.

 _Him?!_

Davis takes a step forward. I take one backward.

Then he stops.

His knuckles rap against my forehead and I nearly drop in shock at the contact. First he avoids me like the plague and now -

"Are you in possession of all mental faculties?"

"Huh?"

His smile is mirthless. "I don't pay you to roam about during work hours, Miss Taniyama. Return upstairs."

For a moment I stand there, rooted to the spot, barely noticing how he makes his way around the scattered files. My gaze tracks every moment of his. When he unlocks a door to the north of the room, I know my curiosity is piqued.

He turns to me. Eyebrow raised. Looking completely glorious as he stands in the cobwebs that line the dusty door.

"Obviously your brain cells are not cooperating." The snide words make me shut my gawping mouth with a snap. "Shall I phrase my order into simpler words."

It is not a question.

I fume.

I hide it with a simper.

"Obviously not all of us possess a multitude of brain cells, like you, sir." I say. How dare he forcefully bump into me and then act all oblivious of his rude behaviour! "But we have plenty of good manners. Should you ever want those."

Cobalt widens. Blinks. Mask slips back on. Head tilts to the side as if studying me.

His mouth quirks into something like a smile but the illusion remains for the flicker of a moment.

Then he disappears into the room and all I can see of the dusty room is the maps that cover the walls, covered in red tacks, marked with black lines, scratched out locations. It doesn't make sense. Is he participating in some kind of treasure hunt?

I shake my head and gather the files.

It is when I'm handing them to Madoka do I realize that he called me Miss Taniyama.

But… how - ?

Unless he has read my file.

Good bye inconspicuous, ninja Mai…

* * *

 **A/N** : And cut! More to come. As for those who want updates on ATCAD – I mainly started this to take a minor break from that but do not worry. Once I'm done with the next chapter of this story, I'll be going to write that one. Thank you for the wonderful response, everyone!

Much cookies and love!

- **borntoflyhigh** -


	4. Scene III

' **Official Pandemonium** '

 **Part I** - **Scene III**

 **Disclaimer** : I do NOT own GH…

* * *

 ** _A Week_** **Later**

* * *

Do you remember what I said about maintaining my inconspicuous status at the office?

Well, here's an update: I need an Invisibility Cloak. The situation is nothing short of desperate.

First off, I am right in the sight of Mr. Hotshot Boss. A day doesn't pass at the office unless he throws some scathing, snide remark at me… the interns are baffled by the amount of attention paid to me. And thankful that it isn't directed at them. At least this situation has a bright side, I've become the 'intern-saviour', if Big Boss (a term coined by Mr Yasuhara Osamu, no copyright infringement intended) ever wants to freeze some poor, unsuspecting employee, he chooses me.

Yay!

I fume silently. Never reply. I'm trying to ingratiate 'subservience' in my bones, hoping that it will help cope with the amount of insults fired at me. I hope the excess brain-cells in that head of his freeze in the cold today. Brr. The jerk says the big words every time he communicates with me. Show off! He can try all he wants, I'm learning all those words he says to me and one day I'm going to throw them right back into his face. Hah!

See above: Ingratiate. Subservience. Infringement. How do you think I ever learnt those, huh?

Anyways, back to the topic at hand. See below for the comments he dishes every morning while entering and every evening during his grand exit.

"Ah, the eminent Miss Taniyama decides to show up, on time. How _miraculous_."

" _Thank_ - _you_ _for_ _the_ _compliment_ , _sir_."

"It's astounding how you've managed to understand such a theory, despite your clumped brain-cells."

" _Indeed_ , _sir_."

"I'm afraid Miss Taniyama has slipped into the depths of dumbness."

" _Excuse_ _me_ , _sir_ \- _?_ "

"Perhaps her little brain cannot comprehend the differences between socializing and work."

" _Um_ …"

"Miss Taniyama, if you would move out of the way. That is, _if_ your feet understand the movement."

" _Er…_ "

"I see that your alarm has started cooperating. Interesting."

"… …"

NOT that I have accepted defeat. I'm just maintaining my status; well, as much as possible, by not replying. I hope he's going to drop this attitude one day, perhaps then he'll finally start looking more appealing to me. I don't understand what the other girls at the office titter about when he passes their cubicles.

But then again, he's not a jerk to them. If he acts any nicer in front of me, I'm going to have a stroke. Believe me.

Just passed my compartment. Threw that arctic glare in my direction. I tried to glare back. Failed. Didn't even say something sarcastic to me.

I think I'm going to faint any moment, now.

The door slams behind him. He disappears into the den. Without a word.

Yeah, definitely getting to the fainting part…

* * *

"She's going to last for about…" Yasu murmurs in thought, eyes darting between the blonde assistant at the desk and his expensive watch. "… four… and a half minutes from now."

I gape at him. Masako rolls her eyes. Madoka calls him an insolent little bastard under her breath. Clearly, they both have been losing the previous bets.

But this is _extreme_. The father of extremes. She can't get fired under four and a half minutes for God's sake! Even Davis is not that much of an asshole. The poor woman's just been sitting, how could she commit a transgression (another Davis word) while sitting!?

For some reason, the trio hangs about my workspace. Probably because it has the best, unhindered view inside Davis' office. Reconnaissance is my priority. I do not spy on him. Or ogle.

Okay… so, maybe I do. Occasionally.

Frequently…

Assistant Number Twenty nods into the receiver, gets up from her desk, much like an immaculate supermodel and goes into the den. Davis called. I see, perhaps he's going to like this one. She looks tough. And pretty. Maybe he's a sucker for a pretty face. I recall all the previous female assistants from the total of assistants and compare them to this paragon of female beauty. No match comes up. She has lasted for more than two days. A record.

Davis is _definitely_ a sucker for a pretty face.

Yuck.

"Any moment now." Yasu stares, intently at his watch, counting down to the last moment. " _Now_."

His words are punctuated by a slam. Assistant Number Twenty exits, wiping one tear from her eye as she boxes up her things.

I whirr around to look at Yasu. Madoka tries to sneak away but Yasu extends his hand, a silent demand for cash. She relents. Masako gives Yasu her best smile and is promptly forgiven the money. Madoka stalks away in disbelief, murmuring about soft spots and smug little rats.

Assistant Number Twenty is the past now.

So, Davis likes tea. Earl Grey. Hates coffee. Prefers juice to soft-drink. Has an affinity for sweet things, cake especially. Reads his own books. Does not own a car. Nor drives. Occasionally looks at a mirror on one wall of his office. Never smiles, not even in private. Owns a total of three ties which he does not wear often, only on meeting out of office. Is not a fan of suits, prefers black-coloured turtlenecks with long, black coats to them. No jackets in his wardrobe. No colours in his wardrobe whatsoever. Dresses in black or grey.

And is impartial to pretty women. I am relieved.

This is reconnaissance.

Oh, who am I kidding?

* * *

 ** _Three_ _Days_** _**Later**_

* * *

Madoka has called with news.

I can't decide if it's good or bad.

"He's leaving for Japan." Madoka sounds tired, world weary. Lin stands over her chair, looming over the both of us. "Told me some shit about a meeting with some sponsors for the testing equipment - "

"Is he lying?" I ask curiously. "Don't we have a meeting in Japan, next week?"

"We do, Miss Taniyama." Lin nods, pushing a document towards me. "But we know for a fact that Noll is going to set apart time to capture Gene's killer. He's going to find that body even if his powers kill him."

I absorb the information. Swallow my empathy for Davis. I can't imagine how nightmarish it would have been for him to stand there, hopeless as he felt his twin die. It's… unimaginable.

A part of me wants to help _him_. I squelch the urge and nod at my seniors.

"So I have to stop him from that?" I clarify, fighting the urge to scream at them to leave him alone and let him find his own way to deal with this situation. But I can't talk. I promised Martin. I can't let a father down. "Bring him back to England, without letting him find a corpse. Be his nanny?"

Lin closes his eyes. Madoka bites her lip at the sarcasm dripping from my words. I can't say anything more. I agreed to this, after all.

It is now that the situation seems so stupid. So irrational.

God, I'm screwed.

"Fine." I stand up. Pick the file from their desk that has all the info I need to stop him. "But I make my stand clear on this. I'm doing it because I can't see Martin and Luella let down, because I owe this place for the stability of my powers - "

"Mai - "

"Without you guys teaching me to control my powers, I would have gone insane with the fear." I pause in the doorway, fists clenched to the side, bile climbing up my throat as I recalled some of my dreams. The panic. The fear. The blood. The desperation. "I'm doing it as an obligation. Otherwise - I think you're all dumb enough not to trust him. He doesn't deserve to live in the shadows of _your_ fear."

When I exit the office, I wish I would have said all that to Martin. Dissuaded him. Told him to stop stopping his son. Told him to let go.

Too late.

Belatedly, I realize my position at the office now.

Mai Taniyama, assistant to Dr Oliver Davis, CEO of BSPR.

I have to last this trip. I have to make myself the best yet. The most perfect.

My fingers dial Ayako's number.

"Hey, Ayako. Need to ask a favour." I adjust the phone between my ear and shoulder, fishing in my bag for a comb to fix my hair before my interview with him. "Are you up for some shopping today? I'm going back to Japan. Strictly business."

* * *

"Mr Davis."

He does not look up from his files, his eyes roam idly over the words as if my presence is nothing more than a triviality.

I growl internally. Call out his name again.

"Mr Davis?"

Nothing.

I narrow my eyes and the next words tumble from my mouth without thought.

"If you think your silence is going to irritate me, sir." I cross my arms and raise an eyebrow at him. "You're deeply mistaken."

Slowly, he raises his head. Stares unblinkingly at me. Thoughtlessly shifts the papers away.

I stare at my vague reflection in cerulean depths. Inhale. Wait for the rapid-fire to start.

His office is the cleanest, most organized space I have ever, ever seen. The papers on his desk are stacked according to priority levels, pens arranged in a holder, files in the corner and an empty cup to the left side. Books neatly arranged in the shelves, a mirror on one side of his desk, a solitary photo frame next to the mirror.

"Miss Taniyama." He stretches out the syllables in my name with excruciating emphasis. "Do you think my sole duty at office is to irritate you?"

I flush but hold my own. "No, sir. But the alternative is that you are deaf and that can't be possible."

Oh. My. God.

His glinting eyes narrow and he imperceptibly leans forward. Expects me to lean back. I stare at him. Forcing my eyes not to blink. Blinking is defeat.

"There is one more alternative," He intertwines his fingers, forming a web of some sort. "- perhaps you do not know the meaning of subtlety."

"Perhaps you do not know basic manners." I counter.

"Perhaps _you_ forget _your_ boundaries."

I gaze at him, stunned. Is this some kind of tennis match? Then, I find my voice.

"Perhaps I have no boundaries at all."

He blinks. Dark blue disappears before snapping back to me. He is disconcerted. I stiffen.

Not my place.

Davis rises fluidly from the chair and strides to the glass window. Turns away from me, arms crossed. A sign that torment is yet to come.

"You have two minutes, Miss Taniyama." His voice is smooth. "Explain why I should give this job to you."

It is my turn to be confused. I know for a fact that he has read my file, what is the purpose of asking me for answers which he already knows?

I choose candour.

"You need an assistant, Mr Davis. One who knows how to handle anything you demand. I'm here."

He whirrs around, clearly surprised at my confidence. I quake on the inside.

"I see." He turns back around, one hand in the pocket of his pants. God, is he a supermodel or what? "So, you think I need you?"

 _I_ _need_ _you_.

My stomach flutters and I resist the urge to wrap my hands around it so I can hide whatever is going on in there.

"Yes. You need someone who knows you. Understands the demand of this job."

"Fascinating." Davis finally turns, eyes narrowed as he studies me. I fidget in the chair, nervously tucking a strand of my hair behind my ear. "So now, you claim to know me."

I fist my hands. The jerk thinks I'm incapable of working efficiently!

Oh, I'll tell him…

"You like tea over coffee. Earl Grey. Chocolate cake is your favourite, though you do not like chocolate in itself. You do not like to wear ties. Nor suits. Black and grey are your favourite colours. Juice is better than carbonated drinks. Your favourite author is you…" He clears his throat at that but I ignore him, I'm on a roll in case you didn't notice. "And you like predetermined settings in which to conduct all client meetings. And you have no patience for Chinese food."

To say he is shocked **would** be an understatement. He stares at me as if he is trying to solve a puzzle. Trying to put mismatched pieces together. I do not look him in the eye. Heaven forbid he calls me out on my stalker tendencies.

" _Fine._ " Do I hear an annoyed note in his voice? Or is that petulance? "You can start tomorrow. Take the rest of the day off. Arrive at eight."

I stop myself from falling off that chair and gather my scattered brain. Carefully, I stand up and walk towards the door.

His voice stops me in the doorway.

"And Miss Taniyama?" I half-turn to him, knocked down by his words. "Black and grey are not my favourite colours. They are a choice I made in a circumstance."

In my daze, I nod at him. My mouth dries up.

"And do you have a favourite colour, sir?"

He looks detachedly amused by my question.

"Yes." He leans back in his seat, entangling his fingers when his sharp gaze catches me off guard. "And it's brown. File that away."

Oh my…

There is no other word for it.

I flee.

* * *

 **A/N** : So that's all for now, folks! Going out to write ATCAD. Review to your heart's content!

Cookies…

-borntoflyhigh-


	5. Scene IV

**'Official Pandemonium'**

 **Part I - Scene IV**

 **Disclaimer:** _I do NOT own GH._

* * *

"Now _that_ is what I call a skirt."

I gaze dolefully at the too short piece of beige coloured garment and sigh.

They're calling that scrap of cloth a skirt these days? Heh.

Ayako does not get the signal. She is a failure with non-verbal communication. I, on the other hand, have spent years working with people that do not believe in the power of communication. Although Oliver Davis makes it to the top of that particular list, rather effortlessly.

Brown. Damn him. Brown. Of all choices in the colour spectrum, he had to go and select brown. Way to go, Davis! You have effectively found methods to shut me up.

Ayako's excited voice brings me back to earth.

"The colour - oh my - it would suit you perfectly. Hmm, just the right length too…"

Just the right length for a napkin, yes. A skirt? Pfft. Let's just not even think about that.

Not that Ayako cares one whit. She calls it fashion. The thirty or so bags which I hold are also deemed fashion.

Fashion weighs a hell lot more than I expected it too.

"But Ayako, isn't it a bit too… I don't know, _tiny?"_

Ayako whirrs around and shoots me an annoyed look. An eyebrow arches at my shopping-bag-oppressed form.

"Nonsense that's fashion." She flips her blazing hair over the shoulder and turns back to meditating over the skirt. "And besides, what time are you living in? The fifteenth century?"

"But it's like way too short and…" A number of possible embarrassments spring to my mind at the thought of wearing this piece of cloth to work. "… I don't think I'll be wearing it to…"

My statement is cut short when Ayako turns back to me again, holding yet another shopping bag which she hands to me as if I'm her chauffeur.

The too-short, dull-coloured skirt mocks me from beneath the packaging material and I release another sigh.

I vow. I'm not going to wear this and saunter into Davis' office. Not over my rotting corpse.

"Wear that tomorrow to work." Ayako instructs as she marches into a shoe store. Her red nail taps against the flawless skin of her jaw. "Along with that white blouse Masako gave you on your twenty-second birthday."

 _That?_

Hell, no.

I imagine myself in those clothes and stop dead in my tracks.

Then it hits me.

"I'll look like a lamb." I wail. Ayako is changing me into all those women that Davis dates. Perfect. Subdued. Elegant. These are not adjectives I ever associate with myself. "They'll all start singing that nursery ballad about sheep when I walk in!"

A picture enters my head. Me doing the walk of shame to Davis' office while the others chant an exaggerated version of some nursery ballad.

Davis holding a shepherd's crooked staff.

"Which one?" Ayako contemplates before her face clears. "Ah 'ba-ba black sheep', right?"

I growl. Black sheep, my -

"Wait no." Ayako purses her lips, absently drumming her fingers against her cheek. "What was it with that Mary girl in it?"

"'Mary had a little lamb?'" I supply warily, not liking the image it insinuates. Not at all.

"Yeah, yeah! That one." She stops in her march to the shoe-shop and turns to me with a raised eyebrow as if trying to figure out the answer to some difficult question. "But doesn't that make you the little lamb and Davis the - "

My eyes widen. A choked little sound escapes me.

Apparently the image is so hilarious that Ayako breaks into unconstrained laughter. Onlookers stare. I scowl.

This is _so_ not funny.

I storm out of the shop, the bags trailing after me.

"Wait, Mai." I'm about to exit the mall, carrying all these things that I might need for the work I'm about to start when Ayako calls out. "We haven't bought anything in brown yet."

Brown. The bane of my existence. The evidence of my existence.

I grit my teeth and give her my best Davis-used glare.

It does not work. Her white, even teeth are bared in a smirk so smug that I want to stamp on the marble floor and take out all the knotted confusion in my stomach.

I walk away from Ayako's laughter reverberating behind me.

So. Not. Funny.

* * *

Reconnaissance is every ninja's top priority. Surveying the battlefield is a conqueror's first step to winning the battle.

I am neither. I feel like a… oh, fine, a _lamb._

 _Gah._

I shoot a worried glance down the corridor. Nobody loiters there. Steeling my spine, I step out into the narrow hallway which leads straight to the PA desk. I cannot allow anybody to see me in these dull, professional clothes, it would totally isolate me from all the _normal_ interns out there and that is not what I want.

Oh the irony. I have yet to see a mirror myself. Masako insisted that she drive me to work today. Of course driving to work in Masakonese translates to a fancy car, fully equipped with a chauffeur with her sitting in the back, relaxing as she files her nails to the slow, lulling beats of some concert pianist hammering away at the poor instrument.

I cannot accustom myself to luxurious rides to work from my friend. And besides I like taking the bus.

My toes bleed as I take each step closer to the dreaded desk. My legs have frozen and I have a sneaking suspicion that I'm going to be the victim of some stupid accident due to these heels that Ayako has bought.

God, no. Not on the first day. I have to be flawless. Professional. Innocent. Faultless. A little angel on the outside and some devious general on the inside. That is the only way to survive. Keep Davis on his toes and yet make him feel in equilibrium. He cannot figure out my game. No way.

I tiptoe to the confined space assigned to me and sigh in relief when I see the empty work cabins. Thank God. No one is here.

Not even Davis.

Best. Workday. Ever.

* * *

The first thing I take note of after settling down at my desk is the amount of work I am required to do for the day.

Holy shit.

No effing way.

The pile of papers stacked neatly on my desk is close to surpassing Mount Everest in altitude.

But Davis is not here yet. It's twelve in the noon. Is he sick or something?

Not that I care. No, no. I'm just having a good day. No one has seen this new me yet. Not even me. I just don't have enough time to go see what Ayako has done with my bland appearance. But then again, Davis is not here!

Need I repeat that this is turning out to be the best work-day ever?

I fill up his calendar for the month, send a copy of his itinerary to his email, take important calls and file away all important cases worthy of his notice. I am in the process of making reservation inquiries for our trip to Japan when a single ring of the phone distracts me from my task.

It is Madoka.

"Just what are you doing in that cabin, Mai?" She demands, her voice shrill over the phone. "You haven't ordered lunch yet, have you?"

I glance at the clock. Two o' clock. Impressive. I possess more stamina than I thought I was capable of.

"Uh, no Madoka." I sandwich the phone between my ear and shoulder, standing up from my chair. I step out of the cabin. "I didn't notice the time, I'll be down there in a moment, could you possibly - "

I stop in my pacing when Davis passes by me. Magically appearing out of nowhere.

I am momentarily blinded by his handsomeness.

 _Ahem._

Madoka interrupts my ogling, her voice impatient. "Mai, are you there? Hey, Mai?"

Davis pauses on his way to his office, hand on the doorknob.

Then he turns to me.

My heart beats with a ferocity that puts to shame all other rhythmic movements it mustered during school races.

 _Traitor._

His eyes rake over my visage. There is no other word for it. They narrow until the glittering blue is all I am staring at. Cerulean shards start the silent examination from my feet up, up, up to my face.

I swallow.

He blinks. Thrice. Dark blue disappears before snapping back up to me. Lips part almost imperceptibly.

While the untrained eye would have missed the movements, I don't. I should probably apply for a degree in all-things-Davis, since I consider myself such an expert on the aforementioned subject.

Probably a doctorate.

His lips purse into a frown as his eyes track down all my movements. Every blink. Every nervous fidget I do under his scrutiny.

He looks away. Coughs.

I have flustered him yet again. Oh my.

 _Oh my, my._

"I'll be back in ten minutes, Mr. Davis." I tap my watch and then explain, hearing his silent question. "Lunch."

I expect him to pass some snarky comment. Insult my intelligence. Tell me to reduce weight. Hand me another stack of papers.

He does not. The man looks like a science student after making a severe miscalculation.

I am thoroughly confused, regardless of any qualifications in non-verbalism. "Would you like something to eat, Mr. Davis?"

He shakes his head, indifference slipping back into his face. "No. No, Miss Taniyama. You may leave."

Then he turns. Unlocks the door to his office. Gracefully slips inside. Leaving me standing there, gaping at cherry wood, with a phone dangling from my hand and Madoka's screeching voice keeping me company.

"Mai? Mai?! _Maaaaaiiiii?!"_

"Heh. Sorry Madoka." I say, struggling to balance that phone on my shoulder. "Boss just came in."

"Oh…" She whispers in understanding and continues in a voice filled with false cheer. "Well, best of luck!"

The phone clicks and I am left alone. Again.

Cowards all of them. None have dared approach me during my imprisonment in the PA cabin.

Not that I blame them. Davis can make grown men cry. Interns have zero chances of survival.

I am on my way to the cafeteria when a series of gasps halt me in my walk of freedom.

Fifty faces gape openly. Yasu nearly drops the cup of coffee he holds in his hand. Madoka blinks repeatedly. A few interns gawp at me.

Fifty voice exhale my name in a slow breath. "Mai?"

I tuck a strand of my hair behind my ear and look around consciously. "Uh… good afternoon, everyone."

This alone leads to a series of accidents. Yasu drops the cup. Madoka nearly tumbles from her chair. Papers scatter, coffee spills, voices are raised, pens drop to the ground, someone's phone chooses the exact moment to go blaring.

Pandemonium. Pure pandemonium.

And suddenly, I feel a whoosh of breath escaping me.

The reflection in the glass of the exit door kills all possible thoughts.

The woman who stares back at me looks like she has been cut and pasted from the front cover of some important fashion magazine. Sleek hair twisted in a neat bun, pinned in place with thin braids wound around it. Brown bangs artistically framing a heart-shaped face. White and beige bringing out the best in complexion.

I stare at the make-shift mirror. Everyone stares at me.

I recall Davis doing a silent examination. Every expression of his is a revelation. Something in me goes all fluttering.

And then I smile. Slowly. The Cheshire grin.

I bow to the superior wisdom of Dr. Matsuzaki.

Ayako is a bloody genius.

* * *

 **A/N:** _I blame college for late updates. I am so sorry everyone *wails* I had to adjust with college and do assignments and compere for induction events and I was really, really busy! I'm sorry for leaving you guys hanging out there. I updated this filler to get over writer's block and thank God, I'm over the aforementioned monster. Hopefully, I'll have something to post up for Angst Week 2k15 :D_

 _On another note: **Happy Belated Birthday To Our Favourite Twinnies!** Noll and Gene we love you guys and pray that you may keep the fandom spirit alive forever!_

 _Love and cookies~~_

 **-borntoflyhigh-**


	6. Scene V

**'Official Pandemonium'**

 **Part I - Scene V**

 **Disclaimer:** _Don't own Ghost Hunt, folks!_

* * *

 _\- Oliver -_

* * *

 _Damn._

I have never had reason to regret the life I chose. I still don't. Indecision was never quite a problem; my abilities determined everything for most of the time.

In ordinary humans, this would cause self-pity, anger, hatred. In my case, it is nothing but useful. I was taught to cultivate control. Control is safety. For everyone. I have never viewed it with antagonism.

Except that my mind is insistent on placing verbal sparring above the control I need.

I stare at the ceiling, unseeingly and reflect upon how easy it was to _want._ To talk. Question _her._ Shake her composure and smirk in the aftermath. It was just as easy to slip. Just as easy to lose control.

Blink. Sigh. Look at Gene grinning like a loon from his place in the photograph, the light glinting against the gilded edges of the frame. Don't think about it. That way lies unmitigated disaster.

However, Lin isn't here. This alone is enough to restore a suitable work mood. But I know the truth; stupidity cannot be excused nor hidden.

Merely thinking about what he might have had to say to me if he saw my utter, _complete_ lack of control. Oh but he wouldn't _say_ anything at all. He would use his most expressive stare and somehow it will encompass all verbal communication.

Ergo, I am grateful.

For Lin. And his momentary absence.

 _Not_ his presence, in any case. That would be self-deprecation. Men of science do not need guards and absolutely not at the advanced age of twenty-two but would Martin or Luella care?I do not drink to an excess. I am not frivolous-minded. Romance is something that is best left undiscussed in my case. I might as well proclaim myself a monk for all this asceticism but monks live in monasteries. I own three estates.

There is a constant din outside my office. Employees chattering away, chairs squeaking, pens scratching against paper. Office sounds. Calming sounds. Signalling control.

 _She_ doesn't.

Glass walls aren't enough. Cherry-wood doors will not do. When I look up from the disorderly stack of papers on the desk, I find her. Involuntarily. It irks me. I have not avoided association will all kinds of human for all the hard work to be undone by _her._ Mai Taniyama has no qualms about disobedience. She has no boundaries and all of this is self-proclaimed. How can I be expected to _work_ if she - my _personal_ secretary - does not smooth the path for me? And how can she smooth the path, _any_ path, when she is about as unnoticeable as a boulder in the road, a warning sign, blazing red. Danger: steep cliff ahead. Doubtless, men have died in the past when they passed the sign unheeded.

That is when she enters the room, with all the aplomb of an owner, bearing a tea-tray. Looking nothing like the whirlwind that burst into the office for her interview just days ago. Burst into the room and demolished twelve years of hard-earned control. Merely by calling me deaf and ill-mannered.

This _version_ of Mai Taniyama is proper. Prim. Hair neatly arranged, wearing suitable work attire (ignoring the length of the thing women must call a _skirt)_ and everything normal until one looked at her shoes. Or more appropriately, her ankles, which is not appropriate as I understand.

"Your tea, Mr Davis."

Oh, this is a fine joke. Dr Oliver Davis, reduced to incoherence by a pair of glittering black footwear. Brilliant.

While I'm too busy analyzing said footwear of assistant, I almost forget that she looms over me, arranging the tray over my desk. Her eyes wide in surprise at the state of my desk and in her shock, she spills the tea over the paperwork.

 _'Oh!'_

The expected reaction hits me a second too late, my mind affixed to the transformation wrought in her. When she gasps, her hands flailing about like a hen, it occurs to me that I am supposed to be the cold, demanding, 'asshole' of a boss in this particular piece of fiction.

I assess the situation calmly. Tea stains the white sheets that I never even looked at. Taniyama is busy wiping the remnants of the tea with one hand and gesticulating wildly with the other one, her voice a note away from hysteria.

"...I should have been paying more attention! I know! But it's just that you're supposed to be _orderly._ But I suppose this fits, I mean with you being a scientist and all. I can't believe I never _thought_ of this! Really, I did not mean to - "

I still the flow of words. Not by my glare. Not by a few, carefully chosen words. Not by glacial remarks.

I cover her flailing hands with my own.

Her eyes flit to meet my gaze, wildly. Her mouth drops open. No sound escapes.

I have rendered her speechless. There should be points allotted for such an insurmountable task.

I search for my wits, which have contentedly retired to some obscure place in my mind.

That is before my fingers touch gold.

Then, I notice the ring on her finger and everything fits like a puzzle in my mind. I remember. The caution. The control. Everything I had forgotten to consider.

" _...must never touch...personal items...psychometry…"_

I snatch back my hands.

Her gaze turns wary. Ever so slowly, she takes her hands away and begins putting away everything on the tray. Her movements are precise, controlled. She takes the stained papers from my desk and separates the other papers into two different piles. Pens in the holder. Stationery at its proper place. Her fingers linger over the photo's frame but she takes them away, her gaze going blank for a fraction of a second.

And all this while, I do nothing but stare at my fists.

She places the papers on my desk and speaks in a quiet, subdued tone.

"I'll have these copied if you'll give me five minutes. Tea will be at your desk in ten. You're quite welcome."

I notice the quip. Should have let it pass. Couldn't.

"Oh," I look up, blinking as if in the face of sudden revelation. "...and Miss Taniyama. I'm a fair employer. I don't believe copying all these will take five minutes."

She stops in the doorway, hand on the door-knob. When she turns to face me over her shoulder, her expression is cautious. Eyes narrowed.

 _Good._

"Sir…?"

"I expect you to bring those copies to me in an hour." I felt an involuntary smirk turning up the corners of his mouth. Control. Push her over the edge. "I believe you'll be up to the task."

"But…" She begins, pausing to choose her words, carefully. "It will only take five minutes for me to print…"

"And did I mention printing, Miss Taniyama?"

Her eyes narrow until they are brown slits. Distrust all over her face. "No-oo." The stretched syllable echoes in the room.

"Exactly." I say in condescending tones. "Hand-copy these and bring them to me in an hour. Dismissed."

And Mai Taniyama stares at me, spluttering indignantly, gaze darting to the ruined pages in her hand. Fifteen ruined sheets. An hour. Difficult task. Not to mention that she would have to miss the afternoon break.

Excellent.

It takes her a few moments to stop making strangled noises and a few more to close her gaping mouth. "But... _why?_ "

I look up. "Why - ?"

She stares unblinkingly at me as if I'm a half-wit. Which considering the circumstances, I possibly am.

"Why not use the _printing_ machine?"

I barely have to hunt for an answer. "I don't like them."

She blinks and I see the word written all over her face. _Asshole._ Which is just as well.

The door opens, signaling the end to the conversation but I find myself calling out, looking for something to say.

"And Taniyama..."

She yanks herself back into the doorway, eyebrow raised.

"My condolences to _him_." I gesture to the ring on her hand.

She stares. The moment stretches until I can hear the ticking of the clock.

Then she raises her hand, the gold glinting in the sunlight. " _This?"_

I smirk at her outraged expression, her mouth working around half-formed syllables. In the end she lifts her chin, an eyebrow raised.

"Why, Mr Davis." Her words were soft, edged with feigned wonder. "I wonder _he'll_ be quite happy when I invite you to the wedding."

The. What…?

"I'll send an invitation around!" I hear the cheerful reply, trailing in the corridor as she leaves.

Someone survived the cliff. Saw the danger sign. Smart.

But did this epitome of wisdom not know that the gold ring did not quite fit her finger? Or that the gold should have had at least a gem on it. Even I know the importance of gemstones, having never performed the task before.

The wonders of human stupidity.

I huff in irritation at the argument I almost loss, gather my coat and stand, going to a short walk.

I need to think about my actions. Think and act. Control.

I cannot indulge in this childishness anymore. I have a reputation that I must uphold. Safety is a priority. I need to learn her weaknesses and eliminate her from my mind, starting with the task I have set her.

But when I return, the copies appear at my desk, with five minutes to spare...

* * *

 _-Mai-_

* * *

I stare at the mirror in contemplation. My lungs burn but I don't fight it. The blood won't wash off. It stains my arms, in strange, red blotches.

I try to breathe. Drag some air into my lungs but there is no respite. The screams won't help me. I have to think. I have to talk. I have to let them know.

The noose tightens. Glass shatters, scattering like shards, all around me. I wreaked this havoc. The light hurts my eyes but there are no tears. Why? _Why?_

I crawl away from the shirt but the chanting in my head will not stop. Dead. Dead. _Dead._

Alive. No. In and out. Calm down. Too much noise. Not enough.

Blood. Everywhere.

For a moment, the world bursts into colour, into clarity but it's fleeting. The silence.

I stare in the mirror. The hands around my neck are my own. I won't survive.

And then, I drown…

* * *

My cheeks sting. When my eyes open, the world is nothing but a blob of blurred images, smeared colour, muted noise.

" _...Mai? Mai?!"_

I blink, using my hand to dash at the tears. I shouldn't have flinched at the blood, I should be used to this.

Masako raises her hand, readying herself for another slap but I stop her.

She draws in a breath of relief.

"You were screaming." Masako collapses to the ground, her head in her hands. "And you were crying, Mai. It was horrible."

I scramble into a sitting position, swiping at the tears. Masako has her own nightmares to deal with, I definitely do not need to add to the number. My arms go around her delicate shoulders.

"Oh, Masako!" I squeeze her shoulders, feeling so glad that she is here for me. "I'm so sorry."

She whips her head to glare at me. " _You're_ sorry?! Why would _you_ be sorry?"

I shake my head, searching for something to say. This is the third time. The third third time I have drowned in my dreams. I thought I was over this. Madoka told me. They said -

"It's the third time, Mai." Masako sweeps herself off the floor, turning her concerned gaze to me. "What are you going to do?"

I am at loss. I don't know.

My eyes blur.

This is the third time I have screamed my way into awareness...

* * *

 **A/N:** _Yes, I'm alive. Yes, this is not quirky. No, I will not procrastinate. No, I will not try to write Naru again which should pretty much explain my writing skill. Yes, those who can piece together the nightmare will receive badges of honour for their intelligence. Yes, reviews will be accompanied by cyber cookies (I bake all flavours!)_

 _Love,_

 **-borntoflyhigh-**


	7. Scene VI

**'Official Pandemonium'**

 **Part I - Scene VI**

* * *

 **Disclaimer:** _I do NOT own GH. Argh._

* * *

If there is something worse than Oliver Davis in person, it is Oliver Davis on phone…

Proceed with caution. Telecommunication somehow enhances his inner beauty. Or lack thereof.

Someone ought to carve this public service message into the cherry-wood door of his glass office just to make sure that people are not caught off guard by his obnoxiousness in the future. On phone or otherwise.

For now, I will have to suffer.

"Mr Davis." I reiterate patiently, balancing the phone on my shoulder as I iron my hair into submission. Using tones that I might employ while teaching multiplication to a five year old. "My workday does not start until seven. By that count I still have approximately forty-five minutes until it begins."

There. A perfectly rational argument.

But I forget _one_ crucial fact. Oliver Davis does not identify rationality. Not unless he's the one dealing in it. Gah.

"Taniyama." He retorts in more or less the same tone I am using. Patient. Condescending. "Your workday starts the moment I enter this place you call office. I will see you in ten."

I sigh in relief, calculating the time taken to reach the office if I leave immediately. Ten. I will be saved if I take the elevator.

Then Davis speaks again. "Seconds, that is."

I should consult a psychiatrist. I feel auditory hallucinations coming on.

Ten? _Seconds?!_

"B-but…!" Davis has gotten me speechless. He's got me spluttering like a fish out of water.

And then he hangs up, a single click signalling the end of the call.

Just. Like. That.

I draw in a breath, trying to shut my anxiety in a box and throw the thing into trash. The phone clatters as it falls on the vanity table.

Masako is trying her best to not look interested. And failing epically for a TV star.

"He wants me at the office." I croak. My hair is hanging in limp strands around my face, the heat from the iron making me sweat. Okay, I lie. Its Davis and his insane ultimatums. "In ten. _Seconds."_

Masako blinks which is the emotional equivalent of surprise in her repertoire.

"But wasn't he the one to tell you that you started at seven every day?"

I stare at my reflection, barely hearing her words. I haven't even put my ironed hair up in a bun. What the hell should I focus on? Proper work attire or Davis' wishes?

"He never demands something like this." Masako is blinking frantically, talking to herself as she thinks the situation through. "He may be insufferable but...he's _always_ fair and reasonable."

I whirl around to face Masako, probably emitting steam from my ears.

" _He._ Is. A. Jerk!" I almost snarl, dumping my keys and phone into my purse with one hand and fastening the strap of my heels with the other one. "That's what he is, Masako." I can almost picture Masako flinching in reaction to my rash answer but I am past caring. In the end, work attire can hang. If Davis wants me at the office a whole hour before anyone else, I really don't care how I look like.

Quiet reigns in our apartment for one full minute.

"Perhaps, I can offer you a drive to work?" Masako offers tentatively.

I look at her worried face and plaster my best blinding smile. I really need to stop bursting like some volcano at Masako.

But that's the thing about best friends, you see. They know exactly what you want to hear even when they're knee-deep in lava.

* * *

I stew in my office.

The moment I stepped into the building, I realized three crucial things, thanks to the elderly doorman.

"Rough night, eh, Miss?"

All of a sudden I remembered the dark circles under my eyes and the fact that I couldn't even hide them with makeup due to Davis going insane at six-forty five in the morning. That angry thought made me remember that my face is absolutely makeup-free and that all in all, I probably resemble a zombie from a '70s film. If they ever made one featuring zombies, that is.

Gee. And they said psychics were cool.

Which made me remember my nightmare.

Yep. Not an auspicious start to the day.

The first thing I do is look for a hair tie in my desk's drawer considering that my hair is backfiring into my face, irritating me, even when it has been tamed into submission. All I see is an assortment of pins. Great.

And then Davis steps out of his ice palace, resembling a glorious demigod as he frowns down upon useless mortals.

AKA: me.

Let's not even talk about what I was doing when he chose to spear me with his cool, disinterested gaze.

Only _I_ would have the rotten luck to attract the attention of my boss while struggling with my hair. Arms twisted at the back of my head to pin every strand into place, face screwed into concentration.

"Taniyama." He raises one eyebrow, eyes coolly raking over my form. "What are you trying to accomplish?"

"Err…" I struggle with words and clear my throat, folding my hands into my lap and ignoring my hair that probably resembles a dead bird's nest what with half of it tied and half of it hanging limply. "I was trying to… err… I was in a hurry to get here so my hair couldn't...err…"

And then I 'erred' some more, my throat drying up as he strides towards my desk.

He extends his hand towards me.

I gawk.

He sighs.

"Pins, Taniyama..."

I gawk some more because _what-the-hell?_

He huffs and I gasp when he rolls his eyes and steps behind the desk, crowding my personal space.

He doesn't get any closer to me. Just stands there, leaning against my desk, maintaining a respectable distance yet somehow still _all_ around me.

I do not gaze at him. That would be suicide.

"Mr Davis?" My voice is faint. Blood pounds into my ears and I stare unseeingly at the polished wood of my desk.

"When I say seconds, Taniyama. I mean it."

I have been stunned into absolute silence. Was that what this whole stunt was about?!

He turns away from me and promptly begins walking to aforementioned ice palace.

"B-but…?"

He stops in the doorway and gazes at me over his shoulder.

"You won't be needing these." He smirks, one side of his mouth turning up as he holds up my hair pins.

I gasp, my hands automatically going up to my hair, feeling the absence of the pins as the strands hang around my face.

"Oh…" He frowns. "And you should stop whatever nocturnal adventures you indulge in."

WHA-?!

Could there be any ruder way to refer to the shadows under my eyes?

 _Chin up, girl._

"I'll certainly take that into advisement." I tell Davis, regaining some of my tattered composure. "Though my fiance won't be too pleased with it, I suppose."

His eyes sharpen.

"Update my calendar. Get Madoka to sign the reports and make arrangements for the trip." I imagine his nostrils flaring slightly as he shoots the orders in my direction. "If you're capable of concentration that is."

I stare at his back, blinking owlishly as the sound of the closing door reverberates in the room.

Hell. Let him think that my non-existent fiance is keeping me up late at night.

Good Lord. Why did I say _that?_

And even when my face is burning up, I can't help but gloat at the thought.

 _Keep thinking just that, Davis…_

* * *

"Jesus, kid." Monk looks at me worriedly when I slide into the chair beside John, joining the gang for our weekly lunch. "You look like you've been dragged through hell."

Oh it's nothing. Just your usual workday… when your boss is a marrow-sucking vampire.

"Gee, Monk. Thanks!" I say as sweetly as possible, playing ice-hockey with the food on my plate. "I think I'll have a heart-stroke if you pay me any more compliments."

He guffaws genially and thumps me on the back. "Watch your mouth, young lady."

Ayako snorts delicately. "If that's how you scold her, no wonder she doesn't take you seriously."

I roll my eyes.

"The last thing I need is _you_ giving me lessons in parenting, hag." He waves a hand in dismissal. "By the way, don't you have-"

 _Thwack!_

"Damn it, woman! Do you have to-"

 _Thwack!_

"Is that old age acting-"

 _Thwack!_

Just another _normal_ family dinner, folks.

"I'm not sure how he's managed to last this long without ending up with a concussion." Yasu remarks to Masako, cutting up the meat on his plate in precise pieces.

"I suppose it has something to do with the fact that he knows Ayako will preside as his doctor and purposefully sabotage his recovery." Masako smirks, swirling the wine in her glas. "Poor man."

Yasu chuckles. "Oh, so now you pity _him_?" He puts a hand to his heart, feigning hurt. "What about me, love?"

I expect Masako to stare stonily at him but she sends me such a playful, _indulgent_ look that I feel my eyeballs nearly dropping into my plate.

What. The. Heck. Is. Going. On?!

John notices it too and leans in to whisper. "I think they're seeing each other."

I choke on my orange juice and fiercely whisper back. _"What?!_ In _that_ sense?"

He nods, blue eyes solemn.

No shit.

All my friends are busy expanding their love life while I'm trying to figure out how to be the female version of James Bond at office. What the hell is wrong with my life?

Not that I begrudge them even an ounce of their happiness because they all deserve it but is something deliberately _wrong_ with me?

Meaning: what the shit am _I_ waiting for?

Oh yeah, _Davis..._

I am roused from errant ramblings by a shrill voice.

"Mai? Yasu?"

I look up at the speaker and recognize Madoka, grinning widely, her eyes gleaming in excitement.

"Darling!" Madoka gives me an air kiss on my cheek and smirks at Yasu. "Can we join you?"

 _We?_

I take in different features of the _oh-so-familiar_ face sulking behind her at once. Inky-black hair. Cerulean eyes so sharp that they could cut diamond. The cold, indifferent expression.

Davis.

What a _fantastic_ day this was turning out to be…

The waiter arranges two chairs for our new guests at the table and I notice that Madoka somehow manipulates Davis into sitting right beside me.

Then, she manipulates John into talking with her so that I have nothing to do besides eating than talking to Davis. Neither verb appeals to me right now.

The witch.

And then - _God help me_ \- he begins talking.

Has the planet tipped itself on whatever axis it spins on?

"I see." Davis murmurs, using the fork and knife with enviable grace. "You wasted no time in finding the proverbial Prince."

"The _what -?"_

Was that a flying pea Monk just chucked at Davis?

"Him." He discreetly gestures to John. "Your fiance."

I am too busy trying to drag my jaw from its limp position on the carpet to respond.

" _Gwah-?_ "

He dismisses my barely articulate response with a wave of his hand, his voice low, eyes flashing. "Blonde. Blue-eyed. A veritable gem, Taniyama. My felicitations."

I struggle to drag air into my lungs but air defies all laws of nature.

What game is Davis playing with me?

And then he leans in to deliver the final blow.

"But for all his _glitter,_ he couldn't give you a decent ring, could he?"

 _Oh, Davis..._

* * *

 **A/N:** _Fillers are not the rage, I understand but I needed to get this out of my system. Review, please! My sincere love and more cookies, lovelies._

 _Love,_

 **-borntoflyhigh-**


	8. Scene VII

**Official Pandemonium**

 **Part I - Scene VII**

 **Disclaimer:** _No owning anything like GH..._

* * *

I attempt another skid, my breath leaving with an excited _whoosh._

A few gasps can be heard. I can practically feel their censorious gazes burning into my back.

 _Damn._ I really need to stop practicing my skids with civilized populations around. And certainly not in these brand-new heels.

I'd rather not be the cause of a senior citizen's heart attack. Thank-you very much.

I silently celebrate the slow, torturous death of my feet and mentally note the pros and cons of using the elevator to escape from the talons of my boss. Who might just be a control-freak drug lord with a sizable empire of crime.

Clearly, television is not so healthy for my overactive imagination.

Pros: I will be fifteen minutes early to my evening class.

Cons: Being enclosed in a metallic death-trap is not my idea of quick transport. Awkward doesn't even cover the atmosphere. And let's not talk about vertigo.

Pros: I can discuss my thesis with Professor Sanders. _And_ review my notes on Freud's Theory of Infantile Sexuality.

On second thought, I'd rather not review those notes. I mean what the _fudge_ -?! Childhood ruined.

Cons: The only elevator that is not spilling with frazzled employees is the one that Davis uses.

Now you know why it's not spilling. Night does not become Davis. But then again; he could be a supermodel. He sure as hell does not need more adornment. Women would kill. Plastic surgery would become the new -

I catch Davis smirking at me from behind the shiny doors of the _lone_ elevator.

The shiny, _closing_ doors.

It's amazing how easily I can infer his expressions even from the distance between us.

Alright, I admit it's not amazing. I've spent so much time at recon - _not_ spying - I could write an autobiography and no one would know the difference.

I wave frantically at Davis. Trying to convey the message. Please, _please_ hold the doors for me!

And that is when I realize my error.

 _Shit._

Rule 101 for Dealings With Certified Jerks: Never ask for favours. They withhold all kinds.

Davis waves back. Not a full-blown, _'hi-friend!'_ wave. Oh no. That kind of happiness is about as dangerous as _Ebola_ for Davis.

Its a mocking acknowledgement, more of a ' _kneel-minion!'_ wave.

He understands.

The prodigious bastard _understands_. But he won't move.

Because I asked, asinine as that sounds.

Before my eyes, the doors snap shut, transporting him to his destination. Leaving me behind; hair wild, feet hurting, eyes narrowed in simmering anger.

It's about that time that I notice that all other elevators are filled to the brim.

And before I know it, a surge of power makes me move my aching feet. If this is the game we're going to play, then I better play it right.

Each day Davis takes the elevator to the landing on the first floor. He strides down the flight of stairs in all his glory and then leaves the building taking some kind of energy with him on his way out.

And he makes me poetic. So, yeah...

I walk down the stairs and stop on the landing, making myself comfortable on one of the steps. My skirt falls in perfect folds and I make sure that the wild mane is tamed and that nothing ruins this illusion of a sophisticated, competent woman.

I slip off my heels and massage the aching points in my ankle. Never will I ever wear these things no matter how cute they look.

Alright, that's a lie. I'll wear these until the doctor tells me to get an amputation.

But suddenly all thought flees my brain.

Footsteps echo behind me.

 _Davis._

He stops just beside me and looks down his nose at the image I present.

"Taniyama."

One word. That's all he ever has to say to attune me to every word he says. Every nuance in his expression.

I hate it.

"What in the name of - " He pauses as if restraining his words. "What are you doing here?"

I look up at him through my lashes and raise an eyebrow.

"I'm resting my feet, Mr Davis."

He rolls his eyes. "Or trying to be the proverbial Cinderella. Wanting strangers to find your shoes."

I snort. "Why do you liken everything to fairy-tales, sir? My fiance is a Prince. I somehow become Cinderella. Following this particular plot-line, you should be the evil step-mother who gives a shitload of work to do just so the poor woman can't have any fun."

Davis barely looks fazed. His words are wry. "I'm better-looking."

My eyes bulge out.

"No shit."

His smirk expands. And he offers me a hand. I stare at the outstretched hand and stare at him thoughtfully before taking it.

I accept the peace-offering with as much grace as I can muster.

He hauls me to my feet effortlessly.

"You see, Taniyama." He tilts his head to the side and analyses me. I suppress a shiver. "That is the answer to every possible argument."

"Narcissist." There is no accusation in my words. I am enjoying this.

He can converse like a human. He can be humourous.

This is not helping the situation.

"I need a copy of all previous contracts at my desk before I check in."

I nod. I anticipated this command. Every file is on his desk.

"Already done."

"We're leaving in two days. Make all necessary arrangements and email the details to me as soon as they're settled."

"You can check your inbox." I gather my files from beside my purse and straighten. "Flight leaves at 6 in the morning. In case we somehow miss that, the flight at 10 is an available alternative.

He stops in his tracks and shoots me an annoyed look over his shoulder. "Is there something you didn't prepare for?"

I squint as I review the question, remembering today's lunch.

"Yes." I shrug. "Your negativity about John."

His eyes narrow almost imperceptibly. Expression as nonchalant as possible.

"And Freud's theories."

I catch a hint of that twisted, trademark _Davis-_ smile and contemplate the consequences of spontaneous combustion.

Yeah. Getting there.

I walk the streets in a stupor. Replaying the conversation word to word in my head.

Professor Sanders remarks upon my lack of punctuality but for once, I am too preoccupied to care.

Davis as a drug lord is attractive, I confess.

But as a human, he devastates...

* * *

"It was always _him,_ wasn't it?"

There are few things more comforting than the little _constants_ in life. Like chocolate cupcakes for breakfast. That white-tea mug with red polka dots all over it. The warm afternoon light. My make-believe family.

Never did I ever think that Masako's absolute control and strength would become one of those constants.

Now, when just a small gap in the closed door separates me from _her_ breakdown, I panic.

"Why are you doing this?"

Yasu never answers.

Glass shards blink at me from the mess on the floor. Masako looks as if a single word will push her into insanity. Not that there is anything wrong with her appearance; her makeup is perfect as always, light and fresh. No tangles in her hair. But there is this glint in her eyes. She gesticulates wildly with her hands, gone the hard-earned control.

She looks _dangerous_.

"Why did he leave me? Why are you here? Why do you hate him so _much?"_

I'll admit this, I don't think too highly of eavesdropping. If a conversation doesn't involve you, there's always a very good reason for it.

But I eavesdrop anyways. On my best friend. Which feels nothing short of treacherous.

"Stop it, Masako." The words are delivered with a firm finality. Even though I can't see his face through the gap in the door, I know his jaw is clenched. "You've always run from anything that even hints of risk. Don't stop now."

Clarification: I don't think eavesdropping constitutes listening in to words that could probably be heard by everyone in the building.

Or does it? Alright, I think it does. At this point, I'm too upset to care.

"Risk?" Her harsh laugh drips with derision. "I did take one. Look where it landed me."

Yasu is shaking with barely concealed anger, his hands are clenched into fists and I cannot find one thing _this_ Yasu has in common with the calm, diplomatic, pleasant man with unrivaled resources.

"He left me." Masako's voice picks up an octave with each phrase. "I took a risk, Yasu. I took a risk and I couldn't even stay to pick the pieces of that mess! I took a risk and ended up disappointing everyone who knew me!"

It's strange how you can know people all your life but then realize how little they actually shared with you.

"So tell me. Why?" Masako chants in a shrill voice that I have never heard before. "Why? _Wh-"_

My palms are sweaty. The grocery bag in my arms threatens to knock me down. But I'm too afraid to move.

Yasu slams both of his hands on the wall behind Masako's head, caging her in.

It isn't the action that surprises me. It's the ferocity with which he starts yelling. Spectacles askew, tie loose and hair wild.

"Because he almost killed you!" There is too much agony in the sound. "Because I'm so goddamn tired of seeing you like this! Like some martyr!"

Masako is stunned. Her lips part and she blinks.

"Because he wanted to break you out of your shell. And the bastard did it. He broke you and made a capital mess of it."

A painful, choking sob echoes.

"Stop." Masako covers her ears with her palms. "God, please stop, Yasu."

" _Hell."_ Yasu laughs ruthlessly. Harsh. Insane. "And you want to know why I hate him so much? My _best_ friend?"

I suck in a breath. Who are they talking about? Who could be so heartless?

"Because he made you his, so completely that you wouldn't even offer me whatever broken pieces left!"

Silence slices through the tension in the room.

There is too much history in that room. More than I can possibly comprehend.

"Stop." Her hoarse voice makes me start. "Don't say that."

"No. You've got to hear me out." Yasu leans down towards her and I avert my eyes, willing my feet to move. They're having a moment I should be no part of. "I love you. I think I've loved you everday since you tried to blackmail me into helping you with your science project."

"I was eleven."

"I was such a jerk to you." Yasu snorts and I almost sag in relief when I hear the distinct calm in his voice. "I tried to apologize but it always came out so wrong. Christ, I was so jealous."

"Don't say that." Masako whispers, a broken sound. "I can't take it."

And they say love heals all. This doesn't sound like healing. This sounds like a Band-Aid is being torn off a raw wound.

"Say you'll think about it." He sounds so sad. "Say you'll move on."

"No! This can't be true." The words are stark. She shakes her head in denial. "He was always there with me! After you pulled your jokes. After all your cruel words. He was _always_ there."

And I know that Masako just crossed some crucial limit.

"Oh, yeah? His tone darkens. "Well, I wasn't the delusional one..."

Her eyes narrow.

"What. Do. You. Mean?"

Yasu straightens away from Masako, posture insolent as he shrugs. "I wasn't the one who imagined myself as Mrs Masako _Davis_."

I blink.

The sharp, stinging sound of a slap reverberates in the room.

Yasu looks fazed. Red marks line his jaw. Masako stares at her hand, suspended in mid-air.

Blood rushes into my brain. A faint, pounding rhythm keeps track of my heartbeat.

Davis.

My legs feel leaden as I drag them to my own room.

This cannot be true. God, this is so warped and yet, the pieces fit. The childhood friendship. Masako's insight into Davis' character.

I put my head between my knees to keep the dizziness at bay. My thoughts chase meaningless circles and I want to tell myself that I don't care. That this has nothing to do with me but I can't shake the confusion off.

The door to the apartment swings shut with a savage thud.

 _Davis._

The clues were all there. Staring me right in the face. God, I'm such a moron!

The sound of glass shattering in the next room keeps me company as I sink into sleep.

* * *

I wake to the sound of broken sobs.

And it's not Masako this time.

My brain takes a moment to connect with my body and I heave myself out of the bed. The irritating ticks from the clock on my bedside tells me it's barely fifteen minutes past midnight.

I won't be able to sleep after that nightmare. Might as well check on Masako. Make us both some tea.

God, why am _I_ so depressed?

Autopilot seems to be my body's preferred mode. My gestures are jerky. Robotic. I refuse to think about that epic fight I overheard a few hours ago.

All along I have been obsessing over a man my best friend loves. If that isn't treachery, I don't know what is.

Is there any easy way to die?

I arrange the two cups on the tray and shoot a nervous look at my reflection in the kettle's surface. My eyes are blotchy. My hands tremble.

But my mind activates itself when I spot the black shoes in the hallway, right beside the coat rack.

Is Yasu here?

I hover tentatively in the doorway and bite my lip.

And then the door flings open.

Cerulean eyes snap to mine. A frown tilts his mouth. And he closes his eyes for a brief moment.

The tray threatens to tumble to the ground.

"Taniyama."

The acknowledgement is so surreal...

This can't be.

"Are you alright?" His voice sounds so far away. "Taniyama? Mai?"

 _Davis._

With Masako. In her room.

At midnight. Here. For her.

And before he can touch my shoulders to steady my swaying frame, I thrust the tray into his hands and almost run back to my room.

Only when the door snaps shut behind me do I breathe.

It seems like such a foreign task.

And then I stare at the ceiling, my back to the door until the first rays of dawn filter through the shades...

* * *

 **A/N:** _I wrote this in some kind of haze. I hope some of it makes reasonable sense. The first scene may seem unnecessary but I have a crucial reason for it. I hope you understand!_

 _Leave a review!_

 _Love,_

 **-borntoflyhigh-**


	9. Scene VIII

**Official Pandemonium**

 **Part I - Scene VIII**

I learnt to lie when I was seven.

The deathly quiet. The whispers. The pity.

The dark.

They told me my parents had gone away to hunt for a treasure, just so I could be raised as a rich princess. It was a plausible theory, but children are more intuitive than adults will ever understand. I remember shouting at them, kicking, throwing a tantrum of epic proportions. _I_ was their treasure. They had made a mistake. My parents wouldn't leave without me. They knew I was smart. They knew I could help them find this treasure.

So I waited for the adults to change their story. Maybe tell me something that involved pirates or dragons or endangered bears. Anything except the treasure.

They never did.

So I lied to myself. If my parents wanted to hunt for a treasure without me, then _fine._ Its not like they'd find it without help from me, anyway. They could spend an eternity finding it and I couldn't care less.

And they did just that.

My parents never came back.

But let me tell you something, lies never hurt. Not unless you're the one who utters them. Not unless you lie to the one in the mirror.

In this moment, I lie to myself.

I observe from my place in the shadows. There is a beauty to the quiet of the morning. The muted light filters through gauze curtains; the only illumination in the dark room. The sound of my footsteps echoes in the room as I lean in the doorway and study the man before me.

And I lie. I couldn't care less for him.

Slivers of light cast mysterious shadows across his face. I can see him in profile. The angular jawline. The slope of his nose. Features chiseled to perfection. His arms are folded as he sits at the wooden table by the window. Everything about his posture screams brittle.

Tense.

My gut is knotted. A ball of emotions, threads entangled beyond the point of rescue. I need to go back to my room and process all these unwanted feelings. Or possibly set them to fire and rejoice in the ashes...

And just when I thought that the silence would strangle me, he turns.

Thoughts scatter when I gaze into his cerulean eyes. They anchor me. And yet the sensation is almost like falling except that there is no impact. No jolt to reality. Nothing but a buzz in my mind, dimming rationality.

"Mai."

Its just my name, ricocheting in the room but the word ought to be written in poetry.

A step forward. Focus on breathing. Don't look. _Don't._

The one problem with infatuation is that there is always an impact. A collision. Even when you think there is none.

I crash when I take in his appearance. Sleeplessness evident by the darkening circles under his eyes. Disheveled. Coat lost.

Everything pointing to his interlude with Masako.

My best friend.

Well, _hell._

"Hey." I swallow, looking down at my feet. "I just wanted some water. I'll be going back to my room."

According to Taniyama Mai, there could be nothing more awkward than having an office _affaire_ or worse, having to face the aforementioned person _the_ night after.

Clearly, my systems need updating. I will get to that in a minute. Or ten. Whenever my brain feels like connecting me to my medulla.

What - I ask - could be more awkward than having to face your boss the day after he _might_ have done the deed. Not with you, of course. With your best friend.

With _Masako._

Infatuation, indeed.

We stare at one another. He wants me to contribute to our _enjoyable_ conversation. I want him to look the other way. As usual, my wish is never granted.

 _Say something. Say something and let me go._

I'm acutely aware of the heat climbing up my neck.

"Why."

Davis never asks questions, I've noticed. He commands. I obey.

Not this time. I don't know what he's asking. Even if I did, I doubt I could talk around the lump lodged in my throat.

"What?" I croak.

He stands up, hands in his pocket and pushes the chair back with his boot.

"Don't lie." Another demand. One step forward. I back away until I collide with the closed door of my room. "I have no tolerance for that."

For one terrifying second, I think about Martin Davis and his elaborate plot. All spoiled. I think of the castle I've built, of my infatuation with this man. All lies.

"I don't know what you're talking about!" I snap, tears threatening. Why?! God! No more lies. "Stop bullying me!"

When he's close enough, I notice the burning curiosity in his gaze.

No, this isn't about the plan his father created. There is something else. So many lies to choose from.

Another staring contest ensues. I search his gaze for a reprieve from this position but he gives none. He looks at me in part exasperation, part resignation.

"You were crying." He states. Just that. I blink and make the mistake of looking up at him. Eyes wide. "Why."

 _"What?"_

"Why do you keep doing that, Taniyama?" His voice is low yet unrelenting. The phrase rings in my head. "Why do you _run_?"

"I don't." I close my eyes. Longing sweeps through me. For a man I hate. For a man I barely know. Someone who keeps me on my toes, every single second of the day. All those games. It's all coming back to haunt me. "I don't know."

I'm so wound up that I don't even care enough to cry out in relief that he hasn't uncovered that one deception.

There isn't enough air in my lungs. Not enough strength in my system to be Taniyama Mai, Executive Assistant to Dr Oliver Davis, not enough to be the lie. This is me, all entangled in emotions. Fascinated by the cold in his eyes. By him.

And then he leans down.

Too close.

Not enough...

One whisper and I break.

 _"Liar."_

He wasn't the one who was brittle. That was me. It was all me. We're one of the same kind.

"Why do you care?" I snarl. Why can't he just leave me alone! Why can't he go enjoy post-coital bliss or whatever it is with his childhood sweetheart? "Go to Masako, Mr Davis. She needs your _kindness._ Not me."

"I don't want to." His voice is flat. Words blunt. "I'm not Gene. I don't have oceans of kindness at my disposal."

"Pity, then." My words are so sharp. A lesser man would have flinched. "What a burden must it be for you to pretend."

A muscle in his jaw twitches. A slight flush on the crests of his cheeks.

"I don't know whether I want to strangle you or..." His words hang in the room, heavy. "Or..."

"Or what?" I taunt, dangling on the precipice of insanity. My heart pounds, threatening to break clean through my chest. He knows. He knows that John is not my fiance. He knows I am infatuated.

He seems to struggle with some thought for a moment. Stares at me, in deep contemplation.

And his gaze lingers at my mouth. Watching. Silent.

This was desire.

My head spins. Fast. So fast. Round and round and round.

He blinks.

Then he straightens. Putting distance between us. My lungs deflate, dragging air in.

"Mai." He pauses and I receive the distinct impression that he mentally shakes his head to clear it. I would know. I am in a similar state, after all. "Taniyama."

My breathing is irregular.

"You..." He stops, carefully thinking of words suitable enough. As if trying to salvage lost control. "You had nightmares, last night. I would have interfered but the door was locked."

I reel. I wasn't even aware of dozing off, so acute was the sting in my eyes. "How many times?"

"The whole night."

I gaze at him in wonder, the meaning of his words crashing on me like a wave. "So, you... you were up all night...just so I couldn't hurt myself..."

"I'm not sure how anyone could've slept through it." He averts his gaze, looking out of the window. Liar. _Liar._ "It was hardly martyrdom."

"B-but!" I stammer, failing to summon logic. "There's a connecting door between our rooms. How...?"

A frown tilts the edges of his mouth. "I'm not sure I understand. I was out here. In the living room."

This is too much to process.

Golden light streams in. The horizon is red, angry streaks crossing through careless splotches of blue.

The sun rises. Brilliant. Bold.

I watch, transfixed as all that colour puts him in a whole new light. There is a strange indentation near his left eye. The little imperfection to the slope of his nose that hints of being broken. A scar to the right side of his mouth, narrowly missing his lip.

 _Human._

The magic spell wears off too soon; Davis takes a step backwards as if proximity threatens to scald him. He collects his coat and his spectacles from the table and leaves.

Without a backwards glance.

And as I stand there, fazed and dizzy, I realize something.

Somewhere, along the way, in the moment with Davis, I forgot to lie to myself...

* * *

 _Oliver_

* * *

I do not need my extraordinary powers of observation to know that Lin is here. At my house. At seven in the morning.

"Noll." He salutes me with a glass of wine, dangling from one hand. "You have recovered your navigational prowess, I assume."

Clearly, my guardian needs to be reminded of boundaries. Several of which, in fact, do not tolerate frequent breach.

"Lin." I acknowledge, discarding the coat, not even caring where it lands. I stand in front of him and fold my arms, looking down at him in clear disapproval.

He raises an eyebrow and tilts his head. "Don't throw your tantrums, Noll. Its despicable."

"Why are you here?"

He stands, drawing himself up to his full height, glaring at me.

"Answer this, Noll. And try being truthful." He enunciates each word as if talking to an infant. Or an imbecile. "Where were you?"

I refuse to answer. Stubborn. Staring ahead.

"Were you or were you not at Taniyama's apartment?"

No point in concealing the truth now. He knows. He has to.

I am an anomaly. I need to be scrutinized.

"Yes."

"Did you or did you not lose control of your emotions?"

I grit my teeth and force myself to answer. I owe it to Lin. I'm dangerous. I need their help. I need to keep all impulses in check.

"Yes. Almost. Twice." I avert my gaze because I know I have failed him. Twelve years. All of it takes a leap out of the nearest window when she appears.

I concentrate on my breathing. In and out. Any moment now. The treatise on the importance of control.

But when I look up, I catch him smiling. Almost.

He walks towards the door, stopping on the way to pat my shoulders.

"Good for you, Noll." He says. "Good for you."

* * *

"Miss Taniyama, is it?" The tinkling, feminine voice confirms over the phone. "I hope I can talk to Oliver, if he isn't busy, that is."

 _Oliver, is it?_

The flirtatious undertones to her words make me raise my eyebrow in curiosity.

Davis and I have waged a campaign of resolutely ignoring each other this afternoon. He doesn't even leave his office to order minions about, just to indulge his sadistic streak. I stick to my desk confirming reservations and checking in on flight times for our trip tomorrow. Up until this point, I haven't disturbed him for anything really.

And now we have another woman who is on first-name basis with Davis. Slow clap.

"Who may I say is calling?"

Hag seems a good enough epithet. Not that jealousy ever resulted in productivity. I need to get over this. Whatever it is.

"Oh!" She exclaims and then laughs gracefully. "Tell him its Miss Ubusuna from Japan. Kei Ubusuna."

* * *

 **A/N:** _I think this pretty much wraps it up. I wanted this chapter to be a sort of filler. We've had much excitement by this time and since now we're off to Part II, I felt like we needed neutrality._

 _And of course, we have Ubusuna in the game now..._

 _See you all in Part II. Much more to come, lovelies!_

 _Please review. They are lifelines! Cookies to all~_

 **-borntoflyhigh-**


	10. Part II

**Official Pandemonium**

 **Part II - Scene I**

 **A/N:** _I do not own Ghost Hunt._

* * *

 ** _Recap_**

"Who may I say is calling?"

Hag seems a good enough epithet. Not that jealousy ever resulted in productivity. I need to get over this. Whatever it is.

"Oh!" She exclaims and then laughs gracefully. "Tell him its Miss Ubusuna from Japan. Kei Ubusuna."

* * *

Modesty is not one of Davis' virtues.

"I need you to replace the mirror in my office with a bigger one." He does not look up from the papers scattered over his desk, scribbling nonsense all over them in startlingly red ink. "And I need it done now."

Am I surprised? No.

"Don't you think that would be a tad bit distracting?" The words are out of my mouth before my brain can process them. If I still have one left that is.

My God, look at those cheekbones. Why would they reward him like this? If I had his cheekbones, I would - I would…

"Then it would be a welcome distraction." He retorts, his eyes snapping up to meet mine over his spectacles, head cocked to one side in a smug manner. "Wouldn't you agree, Taniyama?"

Moot. That's what my point is. I don't have his cheekbones therefore, I spend all of my time working in a small, isolated cubicle, away from normal humans who are afraid to stop by. They're afraid they'll catch whatever it is that I have, ever since I started working here.

Madoka calls it professionalism. Yasu calls it the Davis disease. Diagnosis; extreme workaholism, stick-up-your-butt and an increased tendency to roll eyes at human mistakes.

"Does that mean I can have a mirror in my office too?" I shrug delicately like Masako does when she is busy charming the pants off her producer."I would also like welcome distractions."

Davis snorts derisively.

"Taniyama…" He tuts condescendingly and pauses for dramatic effect, trailing his eyes over my form in a slow examination. "I think not. If you wish to be distracted, you can spy on me. You've gotten rather good at it after all."

My cheeks burn. Ass. Oh God, what an _ass_. If only I could scratch those cute little eyes right out of his skull. What has gotten into him to make him so cheerful, it makes me nauseous to see that half-smirk tip his mouth upwards.

 _Focus._

"A certain Miss Ubusuna called for you," I inform him, pasting a sickly sweet smile all over my face. The kind that pulls all your facial muscles and makes you entirely too conscious of your nose. I will not allow my confidence to be shaken by this man. I have survived till now, I will not let myself swoon over his perfect nose and his blue eyes. No. Bad. "She wanted you to call her as soon as you could."

Davis shifts the papers on his desk, nodding noncommittally as the sunlight catches the black strands of his hair just perfectly. I wait for his reaction, hoping to catch even a glimpse of emotion.

Nothing.

"Really, Taniyama. You do not need to worry about competition. Ubusuna lacks your penchant for small talk. Although," he pauses, intertwining his fingers thoughtfully. "-that would work out wonderfully for me. Wouldn't it?"

I squint at him. The smile still plastered, holding his lazy gaze. Do. Not. Give. In.

"Anyways," Davis leans back in his chair, the mirth disappearing from his face. "My parents wanted to meet you so they thought it would be _nice_ to have you over for dinner tonight. Genius idea, that."

I occupy myself with sweeping my jaw off the carpeted floor while Davis rolls his eyes impatiently.

"Tonight?" I croak.

Do they have a book somewhere on the Internet which would teach me how to say no? Politely? Like saying yes but meaning no in italics and bold?

No.

"Yes. Wear something hideous. I would greatly appreciate it."

Another insult to my taste in fashion. Will not stand by and let that slide.

I raise my eyebrows. "What if I don't?"

Davis rests his elbows on the wooden desk and stares me dead in the eyes.

"Then prepare to have yourself relentlessly cross-questioned while my Mother determines whether your gene pool would add to the beauty of her hypothetical grandchildren or not."

He is joking. I laugh, hearing the unnatural sound bounce off the office walls.

He is, right?

No? _No?!_

I gape.

He shrugs carelessly.

"Your choice, really."

 _So be it._

* * *

Silence reigns over our small apartment.

Apparently, everyone is having a hard time processing the fact that Davis' parents have invited me over for dinner one last time before their son leaves for Japan. For my family, this holds a significance of cosmic proportions - I raise my eyes heavenward - only I know the truth. Martin and Luella Davis simply want to acquaint themselves with their hired spy.

Imagine.

Me. Spying.

I have been known to slip over thin air.

Just putting it out there, you know.

Masako's eyes are busy digging craters into my skin. Ayako raises her eyebrows until they blend into her hairline. Monk and Yasu exchange one of those silent man-to-man looks that even I, master of non-verbal communication, cannot decipher. And I work with Davis who only says only enough words to insult my beauty (or lack thereof) and brain (or lack thereof, heh)

 _Really._

"Guys." I slowly let my breath out, trying to dispel the tension. "It's just dinner. Let it go."

Ayako stands up, eyes widening.

"Just. Dinner?" She blinks incredulously. "For the love of God, child, do you not see it? Did I raise a clueless goldfish? Did I not let you watch enough television, huh?"

I grimace.

"If I may," Masako interjects, raising a sleeve to her mouth gracefully. "-does she have an outfit for the occasion, Ayako?"

I throw my hands up in the air. _What even?!_

Ayako's eyes narrow until they are nothing but red slits.

Scary,

"No."

"Geez, woman." I gape at her, flailing about. "My outfit is the least of my worries."

Masako and Ayako gasp in unison at this blasphemy, exchanging an appreciative glance at this before turning back to me.

"She has no idea…" Masako muses, slowly shaking her head at my ignorance..."Literally no idea."

"Imagine Luella trying to set them up, hehe." Yasu grins cheekily, rubbing his hands together. "Imagine them -"

"NO!" Everyone yells simultaneously. I glance at Masako trying to determine how she feels about this development. Her eyes are sad and she stares pensively at her hand, pale and clutching the couch. Hidden by the sleeve of her kimono.

A sick feeling settles in the pit of my stomach.

She should be the one meeting his parents. Not me. For whatever nefarious reasons. But _she_ should. I do not belong in their world. Certainly _not_ in beige and white, with my hair slick and shiny and tamed back until I can't recognize my own self.

"Masako, I…"

But before my words can be heard, Ayako begins shouting orders left, right and center, graphically insulting my grooming techniques. Masako hurries to the closet, Monk begins unpacking the contents of Ayako's large purse with Yasu who pretends to fawn over me like Luella Davis would.

The impersonation is a feeble attempt to brush up on his acting skills.

"Oh my word, Noll!" He exclaims, twisting his accent into a massacre of the British version. "Look at how pretty she is. Why don't you marry her Noll? In fact, let me get the marriage license I got for you. A second, my dear - it's under my pillow. Oh, rejoice! Rejoice!"

I now know why he never pursued his acting career.

"You do know," Masako joins in the conversation, gracefully floating into the room. Her words are snarky and cold as she hands Ayako a hairbrush. "-that is not what Luella sounds like. She'll have your head if I told her about this."

I hold my breath.

Yasu smiles cheekily, undaunted, bending down his head until their noses almost touch.

She blinks up at him. Dumbfounded.

"Oh yeah?" He challenges softly. "Try me."

Masako gulps.

Ayako watches the drama unfold, a calculating look in her eyes as she drags the brush down my hair.

The absent-minded act hurts my scalp but I don't mind the pain at all. Instead, I feed on the drama with Ayako, arms crossed, silent. I must admit. The sexual tension seems to be at an all-time high. It was more controlled with Monk and John in the room.

Now, I can see literal sparks. Heh.

"AHA!" Monk bursts into the room, holding out my dress for the evening; a hideous confection of frill and lace that threatens to drown me."Found it!"

The spell breaks abruptly.

Masako looks away just as Yasu snaps his neck back, jerking away from her.

Ayako whistles slowly.

I blink.

Monk stares at them in confusion.

 _Silence._

"Well." Masako stretches the word impossibly long. "We need to get Mai ready in two hours." She clears her throat delicately. "I'll draw a bath and make everyone some dinner."

Ayako nods absentmindedly.

Yasu stands motionless, hands clenched at his side.

Everything seems to fall back into a pattern when Ayako goes back to paying extra attention to the mess that is my hair. Monk begins to sing a song and I can hear John call out encouragements from inside my room. The water begins to boil on the stove as my best friend chops vegetables, the sounds playing to a beat in my head.

That is until Yasu turns to leave the room.

And walks straight into the wall.

 _Thud._

Faints on the spot. Lifeless on the ground. Nose beginning to bleed.

And that is when everyone starts screaming all at once in discordant harmony.

Well, _hell._

* * *

 _ **A/N:** Wow. A hundred reviews! _

_Well, where do I begin with this... umm, it's been almost longer than a year since I last updated this and I am extremely sorry for that, I should not have abandoned my story but I had a lot going on this year, so yeah. I was really sad today (the cold brings out the worst in me) and so I started reading all the lovely reviews on this story that you guys left and that made me write this filler chapter for you all. Updates will be more regular from now on, I suppose. For those waiting on ATCAD, I'm going to try and update that this weekend. Just know that you guys have been the absolute best and I apologize if this chapter feels too rushed and forced, I'm a bit rusty heh. It'll get better hopefully. The next chapter is going to be more exciting for a number of reasons huehue so stay tuned. Special thanks to **okaysunshine**_ _for her lovely words about this story and life in general, without her, I don't think I would have continued this. Cheers and happy reading!_

 _Leave a review for a cookie! We bake all flavors._

 _-borntoflyhigh-_


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